


He who learns must suffer

by cyanciela



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Royalty, First Meetings, I cannot believe i’m posting this, Knights - Freeform, M/M, lance gets threatened by a mysterious stranger and i’m jealous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21776728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanciela/pseuds/cyanciela
Summary: Lance is a prince. He’s not necessarily okay with it.—or; first meetings, ft. lots of adrenaline.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	He who learns must suffer

There was no place, on any land traveled by the foot of man that could ever do justice to the charm that his kingdom possessed; although some would like to believe that it was possible to get close. He’d heard the tales, from those within the castle walls, all different in their wildly specific direction. 

_ If you were to be so smart, you’d know to go during the darkest hour _ , one says, a _ nd if you were lucky, and the moon is out, you’re able to see all the way until the ocean, out past her great expanse until the horizon. You’d see the moonlit ocean kiss the shores of home, but only with patience you’ll hear the gentle singing of their union. _

It’s all very romantic, and so, Lance becomes preserving, if not precise, in planning his trips there. It wasn't exactly easy tricking several trained professionals, of which it was their job to watch him, into believing he was somewhere he wasn't. Two outside his door, another two in the gardens below his window, even more in varying locations, none of which are ever the same. Consequently, not easy. 

But not impossible.

The idea is to familiarize himself as much as he can with every single detail that does not change. The guards may change, the positions may change, but the times in which they switch out do not, this was important.

Really, they were hardly necessary, the palace gardens were not even the  _ real _ world. The plants may be, and it was technically an open space, without a roof, but it never felt like  _ going _ anywhere. Going into the city was nice occasionally, there was certainly enough to do, but yet again, he felt like he was watching from the outside in, only this time being watched by the regular citizen along with his royal guard.

He wishes he could say there was even a memory of normalcy to miss, but his entire life has been consistency. He’s looking out a stain glass window, and he has no idea what real looks like. The colors are pretty, but they aren’t, well, real.

He wants to know. Even if it’s just a picture of the real thing, one instant in time, he’s okay with that; he would settle. So, being  _ absolute _ in no one finding out, was a part of the deal. If anyone  _ were _ to find out, the flaw in security would certainly be fixed, and his taste of— the picture, the one instant, would be over and gone as quickly as it’d came.

He’s successful in working his way out of his room, (of course he is), he’s successful in working his way over the walls, past the ever present guards, all the way. Once with his horse, he finds a way to the forest, and tracks down the infamous spot that everyone in the royal court can't seem to silence themselves about.

If he were being honest, his expectation for whatever romantic fantasy the people of Altea had managed to plant inside his head was not the reason he even decided to take such a risk and venture out. All he wanted was the security of knowing he’d been able to do it, to stand tall and know that he  _ could _ . 

Although, the view still takes his breath away.

He feels himself longing for a life of this, absolute freedom and what feels like reckless abandon. He holds the feeling tightly, just for a second, for a moment, he grips it possessively and pulls it to the pounding he hears inside his chest— and lets it go. 

He may not even be of age yet, still several years off (not even the first in line)— but he understands why he's not allowed to be where he stands, and as much as he would love to metaphorically or literally run away to stand at the edge of a cliff, he is a prince. He loves his kingdom, feels a devotion and unending loyalty to the people who gawk and point when he enters towns, and knows that beneath the face of a boy, is the weight of responsibility.

That responsibility however, does not stop him from coming back. He takes the same amount of precautions the tenth time as the first, and no-one is the wiser for it. He knows he isn't being followed, and he knows he is alone. It’s the only time he’s  _ ever _ felt alone, and it’s something of a rush. There wasn't exactly a high visitation amount in the dead of night, or so he thought.

Understandably, seeing someone— a very strange, unknown someone— at  _ his _ spot, may startle him. Somewhat.

Being held at knife point by a very strange, unknown someone (at his spot), may have absolutely scared the life out of him.

He’d arrived as he would any other night. Quietly and ensured that he was alone, or at least, was alone, he’d hoped off Blue, and made his way up what was becoming a path. There was no sound, and certainly no warning that someone must’ve been watching him.

There is a brief, hair-raising, moment of absolute terror that takes over his body, where even the instincts that years of training have given him aren't enough to defend himself. It was then that he becomes paralyzed and unable to think, absolutely anything, as to how this had happened or how to make it stop happening. He can’t even scream, not that it would make a difference, because whoever is holding a knife to his throat, has managed to have also secured a hold over his mouth.

He can still see, so maybe he’ll be granted the privilege of putting a face to whoever is about to either hurt or kill him, and be able to feel angry at someone other than himself for his own death.

His stomach bottoms out in fear, not for the first time tonight, when his attacker’s face nears his own from behind. Neither of the ambusher’s hands over his mouth, or holding the knife to his throat move in position or firmness.

“I am going to give you a chance to tell me who you are and how you've found me. If you cooperate and answer correctly, maybe I will spare your life.”

The voice of his attacker is surprisingly high, not feminine, nor one of a child,  _ obviously _ , but not precisely adult either. If Lance had to guess, whoever he was, wasn't much older than himself. He’s not sure if the flush that takes over his face is from embarrassment or rage. His attention is quickly diverted through, when he feels the blades sharp edge dig ever so delicately into his flesh.

“I’m going to release the hand on your mouth. You try and escape, I kill you. Understand?”

Lance breathes harshly out of his nose, shutting his eyes once again to nod. A moment passes and the hand begins to loosen until it moves away.

“How did you find me?” Lance’s mouth questions, almost if it’s own accord, before he even has to think about what he’s saying. The severity of tremor in his voice surprises even himself.

“I didn't.” The reply is short as it is confusing. Attacker sounds incredulous, but Lance doesn't give him the chance to elaborate further, if he had even planned to.

“They’ll have you killed. They will find you, surely you'll be executed for crimes against Altea.” He’s terrified, but the words don’t stop coming. A habit that seems to persist even in the worst of times. Delightful.

Attacker wastes no time in changing their position, spinning Lance in place so that they may face one another. Lance needs a moment to adjust, even though the maneuver had been tactful, practiced.

“Who on Earth do you believe to be? You’ll be lucky if you aren't ki-” The stranger begins, clearly enraged, only to abruptly silence mid way through. His hold on Lance and the knife against him loosen.

Lance wishes he could read the others expression and figure out why, but the lighting is near none, coupled with the fact Attacker has some kind of covering around the bottom half of his face.

“Who are you?” Attacker asks suddenly, and unlike everything else he’s said, it comes out surprisingly soft, almost scared.

“My- My name is Lance, Prince of Altea.”

Silence. Attacker seems to have fallen into a state of shock, and Lance sieges the opportunity to grab hold of the arm that is holding the knife to his throat. He’s released, and wastes no time in stepping away, mindful of the drop off behind him.

“Wait-” The man—boy, really—seems to have gathered his wits, and lowers his weapon; Lance eyes it warily.

“Are you- do you have evidence? How would the prince, if you are even-?”

Lance pushes the cloak he has round the front of his body away, showing off the clothing he was wearing. It was indeed royal fabrics, royal colors, and if that wasn't enough evidence, he had his necklace on him. The necklace only someone like he could have; it gleams dully in the moonlight.

Lance watches in apprehension-turned-shock as the other looks down, very suddenly falling to one knee, he’s... “My sincerest apologies, your royal highness.”

“I mean you no harm- I thought you were following me or- please forgive me, I take full responsibility for my actions.” Attacker, or Former Attacker seems to be shaking with nerves, and Lance uses the moment to size the other up, now that he isn't paralyzed with fear, or, being threatened with a knife. 

He looks somewhat small in stature, at least to be threatening him so boldly, he thinks irritably, but there is something about his attire that rings a bell.

“I-I suppose we could speak, as long as you promise not to hold me hostage again.” Lance mumbles, reeling from the change in dynamic.

The other remains in place, shaking his head as he continues to look down, “I cannot express my embarrassment-”

Lance cuts him off, suddenly very tired and annoyed, “Perhaps you should introduce yourself, since you are—well, it is only fair, at this point.” 

The other peaks up from where his eyes are rooted to the ground, it lasts a second, before he looks away, “Sir Kogane, of Daibazaal.”

Lance feels the turning of gears in his head, “Daibazaal… I have heard of you, you're-” His eyes widen, “You are a part of the Galran nobility, a duke.”

It begins to make sense, why  _ Keith Kogane _ would assume someone was following  _ him _ , why he’s so— deadly, even more so than Lance, why he recognized those garments. What doesn't make sense is why he's still-

“Duke, it is an insult to me that you kneel so. You rank higher than I, please, stand up.” Lance begins to plead, feeling increasingly more flustered. What was a member of the Galran nobility doing on Altean soil? At this hour?

Finally, Kogane stands, wasting no time in removing the mask around his mouth, “Forgive me.”

“Why are you dressed like that?” Lance belts. The disgust in his voice barely disguised, he almost slaps a hand over his own mouth.

Kogane, luckily, takes it in stride, dusting himself off, “This is typical for a royal guard, especially for those in training Sir.”

Lance doesn't know much about Galran tradition, but surely they could do with better attire.

“Why are you even here? I haven't heard of any scheduled visits for at least a few more weeks.” he questions further, his head beginning to ache.

“I’m not here on visitation, I’m here as a part of my training. I was meant to arrive at dawn.” Responds the duke, and Lance nods sagely, staring off for a moment. 

His plans were ruined for the night, but not a minute ago he was preparing to die, so perhaps it wasn't all bad. 

He takes another moment to admire the view before turning back towards Kogane, “Hmm, It is unfortunate we had to meet this way. I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you, for the trouble.”

The duke glances towards him quickly, and Lance takes a moment to admire the raw emotion in his eyes, clearly wide-eyed fear. They were so— captivating.

“It is but a joke, Sir. Forgive me.” Lance fights back his laughter upon seeing the duke’s distressed expression.

He sighs loudly, sulking and still very tired. He normally gets to stay for at least an hour or two, but he wasn’t in the mood, after… whatever had just transpired. “Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed being threatened, I should get going.”

To his surprise, Sir Kogane stops him by calling out, “Wait! If you would not mind me asking-- why are  _ you _ here?” He asks tentatively, now the one looking out to the horizon, the:  _ you certainly are not allowed to be _ , is implied.

“I wanted to meet a mysterious stranger. I didn't anticipate the charm.” Lance remarks casually, surprised again upon seeing the duke’s bashful expression.

Kogane composes himself, standing tall, “You shouldn't have ventured out here alone.You could've gotten hurt.”

Lance wants to laugh at the sheer irony, but settles for a huff, “Three’s a crowd. Haven't you enjoyed the privacy I’ve so graciously given us?”

The dukes dark eyes gleam in the low light, but his face remains unchanged, “Perhaps one day you’ll employ someone as skilled as I. You certainly wouldn’t be able to sneak past me.”

Lance looks down from where he’s begun to mount Blue, matching the others smile, “If only I were to be so lucky. Safe travels Sir.”

  
  
  
  


Keith watches as he turns, quickly disappearing behind a mass of trees. He wonders if all Alteans were so brazen. Shaking it off, he sits by the cliff’s edge; Shiro should be catching up with him any minute now.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this who knows how long ago. I re-read it, edited, and feel okay enough about it to share. I’m pretty fond of this AU for several reasons, but one main one was the fact that i’d planned out a very big multi-chap for it. Obviously that never happened. I don’t really write kl anymore but this was just,,, my child.
> 
> Please let me know what u think... kudos are also appreciated.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/cyanlana_)   
>  [tumblr](https://cyanlana.tumblr.com/)


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